


Loyalty's High Price

by ShugendoRites



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Betrayal, Corpse Desecration, Flashbacks, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Minor Original Character(s), POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShugendoRites/pseuds/ShugendoRites
Summary: An invisible divide exists within Insomnia. It consists of those that are loyal to Lucis, and those that would see it's ruin. Yet when a serial killer begins targeting members of the Kingsglaive, panic quickly spreads throughout both factions. And as the bodies begin to pile up and suspicion mounts, it becomes unclear who will survive to see the end.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue - November 4th, M.E. 756, 6:33 am

**Author's Note:**

> This is not meant to be a lighthearted read by any means. Please heed the tags.

Halloween was behind them, but the remnants of it could be seen everywhere. From the hanging decorations that wouldn't be removed until the end of November, to the gradually rotting faces of jack'o'lanterns. Prompto couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor gourds, left out to decay until they looked more scary than any person could imagine to carve. Every so often, he would see the pulpy remains of even unluckier pumpkins. Kicked in by some hateful kid or another. The sweet damp scent of rotting vegetables hung in the air, no matter how far he ran.

Despite this, no fruit flies had gathered. It was just too cold for that now.

Chill and damp, the air was heavy with mist. Prompto was beginning to regret not grabbing that extra hoodie. His sweat had already turned cold and was making him shiver. And he wasn't sure if it was something he'd eaten, but he could feel the start of nausea rising in his stomach. Weird. He'd taken his pills that morning, hadn't he? Whatever, he'd blame it on the scent of too many rotten pumpkins. A scent that had only gotten stronger. Even though he was nearing the park, leaving all neighborhoods behind.

Leaving the gravel path, Prompto began to head through the park. Actual daylight finally hits as the sun begins to really peak from the horizon. Already the mist begins to look a bit lighter, and Prompto feels the unease begin to fade from his bones.

The feeling doesn't subside for long. Because after a few minutes in, he stops again. That scent was definitely getting stronger, but the suburbs were far behind him. Prompto slowed his jog to a stop, with that sick feeling renewed.

What was he even doing out here? Alone out on a cold misty morning right after Halloween. Practically a walking temptation for serial killers. There had even been advisory warnings lately due to a disappearance among the glaives. Missing people weren't an uncommon thing in Insomnia, but... With these thoughts in mind, Prompto decided to cut his run short. Jogging would only worsen his anxiety at this point.

At this rate, it would be quicker to just cut through half the park and circle around to Noct's apartment. Better than doubling back anyway. Ignis wouldn't have finished the breakfast he was making, but he would be happy to help him set the table awhile. And... he wanted to go to a home that had actual people in it. It would be worth the penance of having to be the one to wake up Noct.

Prompto exhaled, and made to turn around. Then he feels a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

* * *

Later, Prompto would deny to all he could about the sound he'd made. But, contrary to his initial thought, it was not a serial killer that had nabbed him. It was Gladio, who like him, was taking a morning jog in the park neighboring Noct's apartment.

None of this changed the fact that the living shit had been scared out of him, and that Gladio had no intention of letting him forget that. After he stopped laughing, he invited Prompto to join him. Which he immediately accepted, of course. When was he safer than when he was with Gladio? Soon the two were joking as they continued through the park.

As they talked, Prompto noticed something. Even in colder weather, Gladio usually worked up enough of a sweat that he ran shirtless. So he was pretty surprised to see the man wearing a heavy black sweatshirt for once. He doesn't bring it up, and instead tries to enjoy the remainder of the outing.

Then the breeze picks up, and Prompto finds himself gagging on the scent it carries with it. Far worse than any of the molded or rotting gourds he'd seen on the way, it makes him reel back. "Oh god, what is _that?_ "

"What?" Gladio asked, before sneezing loudly. Twice.

Cold weather, heavy clothes, no sense of smell... Prompto put the pieces together immediately. "Dude, are you sick?"

Gladio shrugged. "Minor head cold. Nothing to worry about.

"You're out in the cold, running while sick?"

"You're starting to sound like Ignis."

"Iggy knows what he's talking about. Besides, what if you pass whatever you have to me?! I can't afford to get sick now!"

Gladio snorts at this. "Thanks. You almost had me thinking you were worried about me."

As they spoke, the wind grew stronger, with the chill breeze making Prompto shiver. Gladio looked up with his nose wrinkled. "Actually... I'm starting to catch it now."

"Definitely something rotting, right?"

"Yeah." Gladio had paused now. "That's... a dead animal. Gotta be." There was something there in his voice that Prompto didn't like. Something unsure, and it only made the foreboding he's felt all morning even worse.

They were nearing the middle of the park now, crunching their way through mounds of dead leaves as they did so. With the sound they were making, Prompto didn't know how he missed Gladio walking up to him. It felt like anyone around for miles should be able to hear them with it so quiet.

Towards the center stood a monument of the Founder King. Older than Prompto and his parents, it towered over them as they got closer. He'd never given the statue much thought before and didn't particularly care about it today.

It was what lied at the bottom of the statue that caught both their attention now.

A massive black trash bag was lashed to the cement base with what looked like... Prompto squinted. Was that black wire, or twine? This question gets pushed to the back of his mind as he realizes something. The black plastic was frayed in several places, as if it had been violently dragged or kicked around. Several large black flies were hovering around the bag.

Wasn't it too cold for there to be flies around?

 _It's a dog. Some sick freak killed a dog for a prank._ It's the first thought that occurs to Prompto, and it's enough to make him even more ill. Gladio swears, as if having the same thought, and starts running towards the statue. Prompto follows, and they both reach the base at the same time. The smell is nearly unbearable, and Prompto staggers a little as he comes to a stop.

Gladio cautiously leaned forward and prodded at one of the rips in the bag. It tears further under his touch and several maggots spill forth from it onto the ground, forcing Gladio to recoil. Prompto retches and takes several steps back himself.

Then, something else slips from the bag and hits the ground with an audible plop.

 _"Oh gods, what the fuck?"_ Prompto's vision begins to waver as he hears Gladio yell in the background. He can't focus on anything but what's laying on the ground before him. Small, dark, and spotted with maggots, it takes him a few minutes to realize what he's looking at.

It's a tongue. Wet and shiny with clotted blood at the end where it's clearly been severed.

Prompto stumbles away, and vomits into a nearby pile of leaves. He's only vaguely aware that Gladio's dialing away on his cell phone...


	2. The Marshal, Part I

Cor stared at the several report on his desk with glazed eyes. With the caffeine in his system having not kicked in, he resolved to have another mug's worth in a ever futile attempt to regain motivation.

A low buzz fills the air as his phone vibrates with an incoming call.

Not even bothering to check the number, he lifts it to his ear. One of the benefits of his job was that his number was blocked from mainstream telemarketers. There was no such thing as a unimportant call with him. Pressing the call button, he doesn't even get a greeting in before he hears the following words spoken in Gladio's unmistakable baritone:

"Marshal, we... we've got a problem."

* * *

Time seemed to slow as Cor approached the Crown Plaza Park. The effect reduced the background chatter of reporters to a dull white noise. Several officers stood around the perimeter, keeping away reporters and rubbernecking passerby alike. He didn't need to show his I.D to be let in, as he was recognized on sight. Crossing the yellow tape, he quickly made his way to the scene.

He'd been given a brief overview of the scene over the phone, but of course it didn't give scope to the reality of it. But then, Cor hadn't thought it would.

A man had been murdered. No form of forensics had been performed yet, but the decay of the body alone suggested he had been dead for two days minimum. This alone was disturbing on it's own but... But, the case would have caught their attention anyway due to just how gruesome it was. Considering it was clearly murder, and had been so close to the Prince's apartment, it was only natural that he be alerted first. There was also the matter of the body being discovered by the Prince's shield, and a fellow Crownsguard member. These facts alone meant that the matter was officially the Crown's problem.

Cor reached the statue's base. The massive statue of the Founder King seemed to watch him. Ignoring the hollow stare it seemed to give, Cor kept his own eyes forward.

At least three people he knew to be on the forensics team were already present. All of them were busying themselves with collecting samples of blood, maggots, and blowflies. He grimaced, respecting that the one thing he and all these other people had in common was a strong stomach.

Of the body itself, not much was left. It had already been freed from the trash bag, and was now respectfully covered with a tarp. This did nothing to hide the fact that the corpse was missing both legs, apparently severed at the knees. It did however, give the limp frame the appearance of being much smaller than it was under the tarp. According to Prompto and Gladio both, they had initially thought a dead animal was encased in the bag due to the size.

Until they found the tongue.

Cor suspected that the tongue had already been dealt with, properly preserved as evidence and logged away. All he could see of it's presence was the bloody mark it had left on the cement. As for Clarus' son and Argentum, the two had been given a ride back to the Citadel to give official statements. He would properly speak to them both later.

Not far off, a single ambulance was parked. In front of it stood two men. A Crownsguard official Cor knew well, and one of the newer glaives that he barely recognized. Calix Dissero and Aegis... something or other. Cor's frown deepened as he approached, their conversation growing ever louder.

"Let's have them go over it again." Aegis was demanding. He looked furious, and kept glancing over at the tarp covered body.

"How many times do you want them to go over it? They were out jogging, and they found the corpse. What else do you want them to say?" Calix just looked tired. ""The level of decomposition alone proves they couldn't have killed him at that time. The body was rotting for days before being taken to the park."

"I don't think they had anything to do with it! But, there has to be something else they saw. Are they sure no one else was in the park?"

Cor hurried his stride. The two were getting too loud, and drawing attention from some of the reporters. Better to put a stop to it now, as they were sure to have enough trouble with the media as is. They both looked up as Cor approached. Calix gave him a salute, and Aegis' expression notably lightened. As if everything would be solved now that the "Immortal" had made an appearance.

Cor hated that. He couldn't solve everything, but that was what was constantly asked of him. He supposed it was the price he paid for his position. For his reputation.

So he cuts to the chase. "Have we learned anything new?"

Calix winced. "Not much, sir. We have a probable confirmation on the victim's I.D though."

With that statement, Aegis whirled on him. "There's nothing probable about it. That's definitely him!"

"Who?" Cor asked flatly. A proper I.D would need to be determined by DNA regardless, but any information this early in the game would help.

The glaive looked back to him, his expression hard. "Lieutenant Lazarus."

Cor's eyebrows shot high. "Luche?"

"It can't be anyone else. He's been missing for days." Aegis spat, and Cor began to understand his fury. The glaives were a family unto themselves, with many of their members having grown up together. Hurting one of them was akin to kicking a hornet's nest. It was not unlike the bond he shared with Regis and co.

Pushing away the thought, Cor focused on what this would mean. The death of a high ranking glaive? This case was serious to begin with, but this little revelation would set off a chain reaction like no other. It promised a living hell within the Citadel for next series of weeks, if not months.

He turns his gaze back to Aegis. "Have they taken your statement?" The man shook his head. Cor sighed, turned and motioned for both men to follow. The forensics team would finish dealing with matters here. His next step was to return to the Citadel and inform his superiors. Then he would get what information he could from there.

King Regis was currently in a meeting with his council, attended by both Clarus and Captain Drautos. So the job would fall to him to inform them what happened.

Cor began kneading his forehead, unsure of how to tell Titus that one of his foremost men and friends was dead.


	3. The Morgue

Luche was a dedicated fighter, and a clever man in the prime of his life. None of that was reflected in the mangled form before him.

Drautos' mind wanders again, trying to cope with the disconnect that he feels at the body lying on the slab. His sight begins to blur and waver the longer he stares at it. Not due to tears, but the sheer sense of peculiarity that came with seeing the corpse of someone you spoke with just days ago. He barely remembers walking here. The events from this morning, from his morning coffee, to the King's meeting, to Cor approaching him afterwards... It's all a distant haze to him now.

The coroner's voice reaches him, and ends his daze. She was still talking to Cor. "We initially thought that his eyes were taken by a scavenger, but further examination revealed that that they were removed before the victim died. Just like the tongue."

"What about his legs?" Cor asks. His voice didn't carry any particular emotion, but his face looked more and more grim with every confirmation he was given.  
"They were also removed before death." The coroner paused, as if considering what to add on. "There were three fingernails missing on each of his hands. Ligature marks on the wrists. He was restrained at some point before death, and for a prolonged amount of time."

"So he was tortured then?"

"Seems like it." She frowned. "It's strange though. These methods don't reflect the types of torture the Niffs usually prefer."

"That's getting ahead of ourselves there. We haven't found anything to suggest that it's at all related to Niflheim." Neither of the men miss the eye-roll she offers.

"Who else could it be?" She asks, and goes to set her clipboard down. Cor takes it from her hands instead. She gives him a startled look as he leans in. "Your job isn't to make assumptions, Maeve. Neither is mine."

"R-right." The coroner fumbles a bit as he hands the clipboard back. Drautos watches this exchange in silence, offering neither comment nor judgement.

"Let's focus on what we know. The victim-" Cor then closed his eyes as he realized his choice of words. "Lieutenant Lazarus wasn't in the park long, right?"

"No... and his body had been decaying for some time before it had been relocated."

That was putting it mildly. Cor had ballparked it at being a maximum of two days. But Luche had to have been dead for a minimum of four days at the rate his body had begun to bloat. This explained the bag's size, which had been visibly ripped and straining to contain the contents at the time of discovery. Considering the circumstances, it was actually kind of a miracle that Luche had been able to be recognized at all.

"So why bring him to the park?"

It's Titus that answers him. "It's an open location that can be approached from any direction. No security, no surveillance. Until they're finished collecting evidence, that leaves little for us to go on."

Cor turns to face the captain. "Who was the last person to contact the Lieutenant?"

"Me, actually." Drautos shifted a bit as he answered. "It was his day off. Luche was going to go out drinking with some of the other glaives that night, but he was called back into the Citadel. It was at my behest."

"It was for a debriefing, wasn't it?"

The captain inclines his head in a nod. "Niflheim's been stirring. We were due to pull out in a month's time, and I wanted to discuss a possible recon mission beforehand." Pausing, he looks back to Cor. "I've already checked the camera feeds. Luche never returned back to the Citadel."

"You contacted him over the phone?" The marshal clarified, and Titus answered with another nod. "Then we need to speak with the last person that actually saw him."

Drautos let out a lengthy sigh. "We can find that out after we speak to the others. I have yet to make the announcement. " Which was half true and they both knew it. Everyone at the Citadel knew there had been a death among the glaives, they just didn't know the why and how of it.

Then again, neither did they.

* * *

Losing your comrades was inevitable in their circumstances. They died as soldiers, with honor. Far from home, but alongside friends. Drautos always kept trying to convince himself that their deaths were worth it. That had it all been worth their goal. That he would one day see their home free. Years pass, and that dream grows more and more distant. Now, he's so far from the path he'd meant to travel that he's not sure where he's heading anymore. He's under no delusions as to the emperor's real goals. He knows that Aldercapt will never hand their home back to them, no matter how diligent they are in serving him. The only way this can end well for them is if both he and Regis meet their end. And he plans on making sure they do.  
  
Titus knows he's grown greedy with age. He now craves vengeance as well as success. He wants them to suffer. For those that caused it all to happen, be it gods or old kings. He wants them to experience the tearing away of everything familiar and precious. If Insomnia is destroyed in the meantime, then all the better. If their homes were destroyed, and their lives torn about, then that was fine too. It was the price Lucians paid for their indifference.  
  
He regards the empire in the same light. If Niflheim was torn apart by the apathetic gods they chose to challenge, then that was the price they paid for their arrogance.  
Either way, he'd planned on seeing these matters through to the end. But, now something unexpected had happened. An attack he'd never accounted for, and from an unknown source.  
  
Luche was dead. Why?  
  
He'd agreed with Cor earlier, but for different reasons. There was no clear purpose for Niflheim to kill off Luche. He'd been a dutiful spy, and to his knowledge, they had always been pleased with his work. If that had changed, then he would be the first one notified as his superior. Now, the reverse was true. He would have to report Luche's death to them, as well as the fallout.  
  
It was the first step to cleaning up this mess. Tomorrow morning, he would address the rest of the glaive on what happened. Cor would be there, as he wanted to speak with each of his men and women afterwards. It would be a tension filled day that would offer little respite at the end. All Drautos could hope for, was that there would be more answers for their trouble.  
  
Drautos lets his eyes flick over to the exit. The marshal had already left, reporting back to the king. But, he had to stay for another matter.  
When the coroner returns from her office, he is waiting. In her hands is a small, cardboard box. "We've gone through his private effects, if you'd like to see them?"  
  
Drautos holds his hands out in answer, and accepts the box offered. He opens it to see a set of car keys, and a worn leather wallet. Examining it reveals that what little cash Luche had been carrying on his person was still within. For whatever reason, his murderer hadn't taken the money. He continues to leaf through it. Two receipts, both from a local deli that specialized in Galadhian fare. He visited it himself a fair few times. Luche's ID had already been collected for the coroner's records. There were no debit or credit cards, but that wasn't surprising. Luche didn't carry funds on him that often, and when he did, it wasn't in large amounts. Setting aside the wallet, he checks the box again. And.. that was all, there was nothing else.  
  
Titus frowned. "What about his phone?"  
  
"It hasn't been accounted for, sir."  
  
 _Shit._ That was a potential disaster. It was likely that there were traces of his communications with the Empire on that device. Anything that implied any connection between Lazarus and Niflheim had to be hidden or purged from existence. Luche was a careful man, but the very nature of their surveillance meant there always something they had to divert attention from. The best possible scenario was that he had left it at his home. Possibly his car, or even his locker at the Citadel. He would have to check those sources before anything else.  
  
The captain gives a brief goodbye, and leaves the morgue more burdened than when he entered. He heads out to the parking lot. And from there, to Luche's car. A brand new one from the looks of it. Titus frowned again. Between the Crown and the Empire, Luche had been paid very well. If he were still alive, Titus would have chastised him for flaunting that wealth. Nothing drew more suspicion than the odd money trail.  
  
Sitting in the driver's seat, he puts the keys into the ignition. Luche's apartment was the obvious first stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing well, and staying safe by remaining indoors whenever possible. Thank you to those that take the time to read this, and see you next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading!


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